


Final Arrangements

by Argyle



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-15
Updated: 2007-07-15
Packaged: 2018-01-02 05:21:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argyle/pseuds/Argyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Last meals aren't all they're cracked up to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Final Arrangements

As near as Jack could tell, it was the same cell. The same wrought iron bars lined the window, and the same straw lay scattered across the floor. The same plate of meager meat stared up at him, overcooked and veined with fat.   
  
Almost daintily, he plucked up the bone between thumb and forefinger, and then watched with interest as a thin line of grease traced a path down his wrist.  
  
“My compliments to the chef.”  
  
With that, he began to munch down the side, not pausing as he reached gristle and sinew. He’d not eaten more than a maggoty morsel of hard tack since before the show at the Isle de Muerta, and no amount of oral discomfort was going to stop him from having his way with what was likely -- he couldn’t bring himself to say certainly -- his last meal on Earth. And after that, well, there was always that damned dog to taunt.  
  
So engrossed did he become in stripping the bone of meat that he scarcely noticed the set of footsteps which echoed down the hall and eventually ceased before his cell, but he caught himself in time to greet their bearer with a lopsided grin.  
  
Commodore Norrington failed to return the gesture. Rather, he kept his face in partial shadow, the brim of his tricorne matching wits with the unrelenting gloom of the prison. But beneath it all, his eyes were weary, and while his mouth was set in its characteristic glower, it seemed to convey restlessness in addition to simple displeasure.  
  
“Sparrow,” he said, the word falling from his lips like a stone.  
  
Jack titled his head. “A bit out of our way, are we, Commodore? Or do you treat all your guests with such wonderful bedside manner?”  
  
“Only to see that they refrain from escaping.”  
  
“Ah. I always knew you liked to have a hand in the pudding.” Emboldened by the momentary flash of amusement in Norrington’s expression, Jack stood up, set aside the bare bone and plate, and sashayed over to the cell wall. Then he knocked on the mortar. “This was damaged in the attack,” he drawled, and knocked again. “A good, strong repair job. And these...” Here he slid over to the cell gate, standing close to the lock, close enough to hear Norrington’s breath. “I take it they’ve been replaced. Spare no expense, eh?”  
  
“Undoubtedly.”  
  
“Well, we’re left with but one option.” Jack pointed down the hall. “Keys went that’a way.”  
  
“There will be no convenient departures this time, Sparrow,” Norrington said. His hand brushed against the hilt of his sword, briefly, before settling to his side again. “And I am sure the hangman has already found a buyer for your boots.”  
  
Jack’s grin widened. “Really, Commodore, I’d thought better of your bargaining skills. There’s no need for a middleman. If you’d only asked, I’d have given you a fair price.”  
  
Norrington’s frown deepened. He paused, and then: “How did you find your supper?”  
  
“Gaoler pounded on the bars, and there it was,” said Jack, using a fingernail to pick at his teeth. “But as far as last meals go, it wasn’t exactly plover’s eggs and venison. In fact, this one ranks at the very bottom of the barrel. Bitter dregs, as it were. Couldn’t even be bothered to spring for a bit of seasoning.” Jack arched a brow, but Norrington gave no response. And then, after a pause, the pirate continued blithely, “I shall be expressing my disappointment to the Admiralty at the next possible juncture.”  
  
“I suppose,” Norrington replied sardonically, “you’ll want a letter of introduction.”  
  
“Every little bit helps, love,” Jack said. “And it helps to love every little bit. Speaking of which: how’s Lizzie?”  
  
“Considering the trauma she has lately experienced--”  
  
“Can’t stop talking about me, eh? Just like her. Young Will, on the other hand--”  
  
“Has been granted clemency.” Norrington’s eyes narrowed. “And he will be alone in that.”  
  
“That’s the spirit. I always said it’d be a full pardon for me or nothing. Now, if you please, there’s still a good portion of my life which has yet to flash before my eyes.”  
  
“When you arrive at the part where you find yourself getting into this mess, do take note.”  
  
“Which mess? Because if you mean sitting here in this cell, a hapless captive to the vicious whim of fate... Well, you’d have to go back quite a while, and it’s _not_ as though I have all night to spend on this. There’s still the matter of my will.”  
  
“The man who has nothing has the most to give,” Norrington said.  
  
“Now, now. If you insist on displaying that sort of attitude, I may be tempted to write you out completely.”  
  
“You haven’t a ship, Sparrow. You haven’t a hat--”  
  
“I still have my dignity.”  
  
“--or your sword--”  
  
“But I don’t have rum.”  
  
“--wooden or no. Did your compass not warn you in sufficient time?”  
  
“Funny word, that. Sufficient. I’d settle for dubious if it’d grant me a tankard.”  
  
“Which is clearly your problem.”  
  
“And clearly _your_ problem is that you can’t be bothered to bend the rules. Guidelines. You know: give an old mate a sporting chance.”  
  
“No man is above the law.”  
  
Jack met Norrington’s eye. Then he let his gaze fall, down to the immaculate folds of Norrington’s cravat, set off as it was by tender, flushed skin; down to the gold frogging and brocade; down to the breeches and stockings and neatly buckled shoes. “And if it were up to you,” he said, none-too-softly, “what punishment would I receive?”  
  
Norrington let out a short, disapproving grunt. “A moot question, obviously.”  
  
“But a question nonetheless. Or don’t you care to say?” Jack leaned against the bars, noting with circumspect pride that the commodore only failed to budge through visible force of will. “Would you leave it go at a damned good thrashing?”  
  
“If it were up to me, Sparrow, you would become rather more acquainted with this cell than your present appointment allows.”  
  
“Ah, but I fear the former would be better for my health. And yours.”  
  
Norrington’s nostrils flared, but he only said, “That will be quite enough.”  
  
“Of the two of us, you’re the only one with the power to leave. Which brings me to my initial question: why are you here?”  
  
“It isn’t to gloat, if that’s what you’re thinking.”  
  
But Norrington wore the promise of commendation like a cloak.  
  
Jack bent himself in a low, mocking bow. “Just as long as you’re not sorry,” he said, all but dodging Norrington’s scowl. And then, smoothly, he reached forward through the bars, his fingers stretching out to grasp Norrington’s jacket. Norrington started, but failed to pull away before Jack ground their mouths together. Jack’s tongue had little difficulty parting Norrington’s teeth; when he shifted to taste Norrington’s upper lip, he noticed sweat there, and soap.  
  
And then Norrington was staggering back against the far wall just as Jack curled his mustaches with deliberate care and sensitivity. “Last request,” he said, and smiled. “And you wouldn’t begrudge a dying man his last request, would you?”  
  
Norrington smoothed his waistcoat and sleeves. When he looked up, his eyes were as hard as they had been upon his arrival. He made no comment.  
  
Jack grimaced and raised an entreating hand as the commodore turned to go. “Now I think of it, the cell isn’t so bad. A bit of gingham, a bit of silk, and I’m sure I’d feel right at home.”  
  
“Good evening, Mr. Sparrow.”  
  
“Commodore?” Jack called. And then, when Norrington turned, “You can have the boots.” But Norrington was making his way back down the corridor; his footsteps echoed, and Jack could not be sure his voice carried over the din.


End file.
